Farewell
by PaperBows
Summary: Two closely involved members of Akatsuki watching Itachi's state worsening, accompanying him and making their goodbyes.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary : Two closely involved members of Akatsuki watching Itachi's state worsening, accompanying him and making their goodbyes.**

**So, yeah hello, first attempt at a multi chaptered fic here.**

**I don't own the world of Naruto or any of its characters.**

**Anything you say would be greatly appreciated. **

**Thank you for reading, enjoy, and please tell me what you think ?  
**

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**Chapter 1**

His legs slid lifelessly down against the border of the bed and he putted little effort to bring them back onto the mattress, holding them up for a while when he acheived doing so, as to inspect them closely, forgeting effectively for some seconds the aching in his chest. He had been asked not to move after coughing blood and passing out, he couldn't remember when it happened, not that this piece of information mattered at all.  
Now he wasn't moving -much- as he did not feel any insatiable need to go against the words told for his well being, whoever told them, whether it was out of worry or not.

"Itachi-san, feeling any better ?"

"I am, thank you."

"Here, I brought your medication. Don't strain yourself."

The sentence pratically pronounced itself out of his mouth, after a whole lifetime of dealing with ephemeral and vanishing things, creatures and goals, and somewhere in between the transition to his new life, dealing with turned out to be caring for, being loyal to, being responsible of.  
He took a nearby chair and waited patiently as his partner popped the pills that permitted him to cling to life.

"Do you want something to eat ?"

"No."

Kisame frowned but let this one go.

"Well, I think I'll stay here for a while so if there's something you want ... "

"I appreciate you concern."

The older sprawled his body on the chair to make himself at ease and Itachi proceeded to drift slowly back to sleep, until Tobi made himself known with a loud entrance and through his pounding head the black-haired youth could still feel the dark gloved hand petting his hair, now that he tilted his head to the side, he could vaguely see Tobi's seemingly smiling - he could only guess so by the upwards shape the skin took under his one visible eye - face.

"Poor Itachi-san, I heard you didn't respond to anyone anymore, have you been hurting much?" He inquired with his usual high pitched voice, and for once, Itachi didn't mind the switch of personnality, there must have been sarcasm under that sweet tone, but he didn't want to give it more thought and decided to answer, if just to stop the questioning.

"No."

"I thought of you, and guess what : I bought you a cake since it is your birthday ! Aren't you happy ?" With that Tobi showed - quite proudly - the cupcake he was childishly hiding behind his back with his other hand.

"I am." His voice couldn't have gotten more monotonous and seemed even complaining, he took a look at the pastry and disregarding his liking for sweets, the mere sight of it caused his headache to fuel a new urge to throw up.

"Please leave me now."

Tobi gasped noisily.  
"How can you ask me to do that ! I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just left you to die !" He declared dramatically.  
Kisame watched the exchange quietly until Tobi's voice definitely got to his head.

"Tobi you should leave, Itachi-san is trying to rest."

"Let me take care of that Kisame-san, you did so much already ! You must be tired too !"

He received a wary glance in answer.

"I want to be helpful too ! Look, you should grab something to eat and I stay here to wait for you !"

"You should go ahead Kisame." At this stade, it really didn't take much to convince him, which Itachi's sentence achieved, because he was tired and hungry and that night spent at his bedside, wiping blood, fighting the exhausted fists of a drowsy, inconsistent and disorientated Itachi, trying to answer delirium induced inquiry achieved to finish off whatever determination he might have had at the beginning.

"Fine, Tobi, don't do anything stupid."

"Yes sir !"

As the shark's paths crossed the doorstep, Madara's the gloved hand slid down to reach the end of his student's long ponytail, not as long as his lost little brother's have been but present enough to remind him of Izuna, if Itachi's personality in itself didn't already achieve to do that. For that he wanted to cut that sinful hair and a fraction of second after, realized the childishness of such a thought -because really, as much as it was refreshing to piss people off with Tobi's personality, the resulting reasoning didn't always worked out in real life-, resigned himself and watched it to grow out for it reminded him of the resposibilities not taken, all the facts he did not see coming, all the things that would not rehappen and the fools, all those fools.

"How is Sasuke ? "

The sudden deppening of voice startled Itachi for a second.

"He's well." He said, then added "He plans on staying well."

And Madara laughed, this emotion he was far too familiar with.

"Oh but I am sure he will."

"What do you want ?"

He brought back his hand to settle it on his hips and some of Itachi's raven hair freed themselves easily to follow the appendage.

"I just devoted myself to take care of you, you know how kind I am, now do you want to eat what I put so much heart into bringing to you ?" The voice was going but the highly cheerful personality had yet to persist.

"I am nauseous."

"In that case, we are going out so that your lungs can be filled with some fresh air, what do you think ?" The question was more like a sentence-filler than anything as without waiting for any answer, the elder Uchiha helped -rather forcefully- his student on his feet and winded his own green scarf around the younger's neck until his shoulders and chin were totally engulfed, and Itachi stumbled back a bit, not caring if and where he landed as long as it permitted him not to move or waste energy uselessly, he did not try to adjust his vision either.  
The sky was pitch black outside and Madara had to wrap his arms over Itachi's shoulders to keep him going, sometimes having put his hand under his armpit to keep him standing and Itachi wondered why the man put so much effort in such an insignificant goal.

"What is this for ?"

"Why, do I need a reason to be generous to my favorite student now ?"

"Yes."

"Don't be difficult, boy." The mentor under the orange mask was unreadable. "Be content with thanking me when I am making an effort for you and so far I'd say you didn't deserve any of mine." So far, so far today he thought.

The younger's eyes met his and on a common silent agreement, they resumed their pace with a sligthly increased motivation on Itachi's part. "My little brother was so much better than yours." Startled, he didn't know what exactly it was that his mentor wanted to extract from him by being so talkative and agressing his sibling.

"That you couldn't know, Sasuke improved and -"

"I said better, not stronger, but that topic stays highly debatable."  
The truthfulness and implied meaning of those words, Itachi did not want to think of, but he felt the need to defend his brother nonetheless.

"Sasuke is awesome."

"Awesome ?" Madara laughed and laughed."Tell me about it : you take a look at him and your life is suddently enlightened?"

"Didn't you feel the same about your own brother ?" "What about his concrete accomplishments ? Did he once tend to your wounds ?"

"That is absolutely not his role, it is why I am his older brother, why I am here for."

"What I said exactly, the boy has nothing to be bragged about, he does nothing he doesn't have to."

"I'll never let my brother prey to death so that I could say he was someone great." He was not surprised when the comment earned him the angry blow which sent him on his back a few meters behind.

He did not remember the last time Madara lost control so easily in front of him but what happened next, he definitely remembered, there seemed to be blurs of red and black, white and luminous spots and pain, blinding pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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"What the hell were you thinking you idiot. And how did you get Itachi-san to follow you ?" The voice was so angry and tired Tobi had yet to determine if Kisame was about to pass out or to lunge forwards, for lack of better idea, he raised his hands in the air in a defensive stance.

"It is not my fault Kisame-san !" he screeched."I just wanted him to fell better and Itachi-san found it was a good idea too!"  
Finding his partner's room empty, searching for his chakra signature through the forest and finding him tense with wide opened eyes on the ground, greeted by Tobi's voice just awoke his agressive, murderous old self.

"What happened Tobi ?" He asked slowly.

"I don't know ! I swear ! He was just ... like that !"

"In the middle of nowhere ? No kidding." He sighed tiredly and resigned himself "Look, there is one guest house not far from there, we're heading there."

That night could very well defy the last one as Kisame had to rely on Tobi's help to keep Itachi in place while he was trying to give him an injection to appease the fever, the needle nearly broke into his skin and it awoke an old memory from when Kisame was one or two years old and his mother prohibed him to play with a needle, claiming that it would plunge into his vein and follow the flow of the blood until it met his heart, now that logic was highly debatable nonetheless he did not want to fetch that beginning of a needle once it penetrated the skin and more importantly, that fever was aiming some point he did not want to see, with that concluded, Itachi's lithe pale arm was rather easily broken as a twig under brute force, the look he received was of pure animosity but the limb didn't move anymore.

The brunette, delirious kept talking and threatening and asking about non-existant people he saw at the door, repeating the same question every fifteen seconds it even caused Tobi's infinite cheerfulness to snap.

Promising was not the best word to describe the current situation as Itachi made no effort whatsoever in thinking straight, he did no effort whatsoever in anything at all those days that didn't directly affect his one and unique concern and it was so painfully clear to each and every member of the Akatsuki that they were long ago wondering why Pein was letting him stay yet. It came as a wave of relief when the verbal harassing ended, leaving three utterly tired Akatsuki members and two who were trying to act as nothing happened, while avoiding to glance at the youngest's direction altogether.

"I'm sure he needs a break." Tobi said with a pensive stance.

"Sure, why don't we all go to one big holiday, the moment is so appropriate."

And Tobi laughed.

"Well he isn't doing anything at all so that won't be such a loss, Kisame-san, we might as well stay here. I could use a visit to some hot springs."

"Pein will be so thrilled to hear about it."

"Oh, don't worry about it Kisame-san, I talked to him recently and he said he agreed !"

Kisame raised his eyebrow.

"Believe me !"

"No."

"But it is just for one day or two ! "

"Tobi, you might be an amusing kid but I am not in the mood."

"Tobi is not a liar !"

"Tobi, I am warning you ..."

"Kisame-san, I am tired !"

Kisame took one look at the shivering mess on the bed and Itachi didn't even seem to notice or even understand their talking when he decided to stand on his feet.

"Where are you going Itachi-san ?"

He waited for an answer but none came, instead, Itachi rummaged through the place, until he found something he was satisfied with.

"You forgot to put the cover on the pan." He informed Kisame on the imperfection he spotted.

"Itachi-san, what are you doing ?"

Kisame received a look that suggested he was stupid.

"I covered it."

The older threw a wary look at the shoes his partner was holding and placing above the pan.

"With that ?"

"I don't know what game you are playing at but it fails to amuse me."

"Itachi-san ... "

"What's with you ? I am tired and I don't know why you are playing dumb with such a trivial situation, but stop will you ?"

"Please go back to sleep."

With an offended look, the brunette nevertheless went back to his directed a glance towards the shark-like man and the later just knew he had lost.

"I'm sure it will pass him after a good night's sleep."

Thinking the situation throughoughly, Kisame couldn't blame him, they all came for whatever reason brought them and clung fiercely to it, in the end, even if they learnt to feel worry for each other : acquaintances would stay acquaintances, and ideals only mattered, ideals and dreams ? But then, wasn't that whole thing what he wanted to change within himself, that whatever the outcome, people would be greater than ideals ? Or was it the other way around ? Or perhaps simply where lied the truth and the lies, there lied the worthless and the worth-being-killed-for, sometimes, you just have to stake your beliefs and sanity to understand what is what and who is who. But when you feel so much more light, that must be the sign that you are on the right path, right ?

Life carried on, men did whatever they wanted to do, affected other men's life and if those were lucky, their life would change for the better.

In his decades of life, he saw all kind of men, those who gave to the poor, who were kind to everyone and anyone, who never or rarely lied, who prayed.  
Then there were the ones who lied and hurted and cursed and caused misfortune and did not pity the poor anymore and feared God, and feared ... -Kisame knew it now, because Itachi did not hide it from him anymore, he was too tired to hide anything from him- and feared their little broher too.

But years of uncharacteristic patience had taken its toll on Kisame, it was always about waiting, doing things here and there and waiting for Madara to make whatever move he planned to make or at least make an apparition of sorts and reveal the great truth, and in the meanwhile waiting to see his partner die somewhere, where was it already ? Ah, their old compound, nothing short of sentimental. Maybe he could break his legs, but ... nah.

He stood up from his chair, took the discarded bed cover that Itachi forgot to take in his somnolent state, and threw it in the brunette's direction. It achieved to more or less recover the upper half of his body but mostly bundled in an awkward shape above his chest.

"Heh, if I am lucky then, maybe I'll see you soon."

He'll need a break before that.

The dreaded dawn finally decided to fall upon them while Kisame's eyes didn't close for more than one second before being reopenned to keep an eye on the sleeping partner, the sky was of a depressing greyish shade and the rain was mercilessly pouring. Definitely not a time to show up outside.

"Tobi !"

"Yes?"

"Go find something to eat, I'm starving."

"Okay !"

"Wait, I want some meat."

"Got it !"

He'll remember to thank Tobi one of these days, it might have been difficult to pass this day wihout the kid, but, he began it so it might as well be one far away day.

He heard a very faint rustling in he kitchen, and in the corner of his eyes, he could see a glimpse of Itachi removing his shoes from above the pan he placed them on. He snickered and Itachi feigned not hearing him for his dignity's sake but Kisame did not care, he knew his laugher came to Itachi's ears and did not try to conceal it because, really, that might be the last time he'll ever have he priviledge of witnessing such a clumsiness.

And it was so refreshing.

That would definitely stay the best memory he'll ever have of Itachi.

"I'm back, there was that really nice hotel with that old woman who did delicious steaks, I got them for nearly free !"

Itachi's voice finally broke the silence.

"You brought nothing else ?"

"No, Kisame-san told me he wanted meat."

Itachi made a face. Because he considered having exceeded his quota of whining for the upcoming month, he choose to throw a pointed look at Kisame's general direction.

"Well, you'll need to eat some proteins one day, Itachi-san, you know it's important." Kisame said.

"There are proteins in some vegetables too."

"Those are deficient in certain amino acids, and if all the amino acids are not all present in the good proportions the proteins will go to a waste ... Feel free to prove me wrong" Kisame declared victoriously, "What ? Did you intend to play smart-ass with me until the day you die ? "

Itachi was struck for a second then averted his eyes and laughed silently.

"Are you okay now ? I mean honestly ?"

"I am thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

**A lots of love for SilverLunaMoon and The Darkest wizard for reviewing :D !**  
**And to everyone who is reading this far too, thank you very much ! Enjoy**

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**Chapter 3  
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It started with the warm steam of cooked cabbages filling the air, followed by bitter memories and fleeting images of black curls, and once fierce looking eyes, reprimanding, worrying, accepting, resigned eyes.

Indulging his little cousin's selective taste probably figured on the lowest part of Shisui's list of priorities, thus he was even less concerned about hearing him complaining about such things. There were worse things in life. He considered Itachi could bear with it, and the two knew very well that the younger could. But that didn't stop him from emitting nonchalant comments of "I don't like this" and "I'd rather not eat this" and "Don't you have anything else ?" here and there, and he liked to make them sound as mature as possible, but the mere fact that Itachi would open his mouth when given a plate of meat, Shisui deemed that whatever sentence that would be coming out of his lips would be labeled "whining".

So, every time Itachi would come to him, could he help it, he would make sure that the young cousin would be faced with something he didn't like and claimed that "What am I your best friend for if you refuse to show me you can go through the hardships of life for my sake." Such events were never isolated because Shisui was the kind of cousin and best friend to laugh off everything you deemed serious or could be worried about, and Itachi loved being with him for that.

And then when the times were serious, and Shisui couldn't trivialize or mock the circumstances anymore, Itachi's will to understand the words coming out of his mouth slowly fled, they were foreign. The tone was awkward, hard to listen to.

Just like that one time in September when Shisui's mother finally died after twenty tree days of being comatose. Itachi had been there, and after examining each possibility, the first sentence he considered decent enough to be uttered to his best friend since his loss was to ask details about the flower arrangement. He carefully avoided telling that he was sorry, and instead, clung to Shisui as humanly as possible, and made sure to ask about what he could make himself useful for, because that was the closest he could think of to show without words his condolences. He could have summoned that maturity with anyone else, but with Shisui, there was no language for the hard moments, there was subject-changing and there were what you did and what you didn't do, and to change that would have been to destroy the nature of the whole everything that they shared.

And so, that one time when Itachi put his foot on his best friend's step door, and an awkwardly suffocating smell, coming from the steam of cooked vegetables invaded his nostrils, just a second before he thought that he might like the scent, he decided that there was something non-pleasant Shisui was trying to get at, until he saw -

"How much time do you have already ? " The very present Madara of the present time asked with a tone that suggested that the extended silence was boring him so much, the sound of his own voice would be pleasant to hear, just then.

"Don't you praise yourself for knowing everything ? " His drifting thoughts settled briefly on the fact that the present air smelled of vegetables too, to begin with. And then on Kisame's sprawled form, on the floor, because Madara obviously decided that, for now, he had other things to do than to be ordered around.

"I do know indeed, do you plan on spending that much time sniveling ? You poor thing." Madara observed him with that air of an amused child that would dismantle a curious thing he was eager to discover the secrets of fabrication. But that couldn't have been farther from the truth, Madara was no child, and he knew very well the mechanics of Itachi's being, because he occupied that place far before Itachi was even born and because Madara was Itachi's teacher, he would always make a duty out of shaping the features of his student's personality, that child who learnt from him more that he would ever acknowledge, and had yet to learn.

"I don't need your pity."

And Madara was merely waiting for Itachi's next move and words to come, only to agree with himself on how he saw it coming afterwards.

"I can see that, your self pity is enough for you to swallow in."

"You're wrong. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, feel free to show it anytime. And dear Itachi, I am never wrong. But while you gloat over your bliss, please bring me a cup of tea."

While doing so -because not doing so and turning the whole situation into a poor display of broken pride would be engendering nothing else than hilarity, from Madara's part- Itachi idly noticed that the kitchen was composed of poorly coloured blurs, he recognized the objects mostly by their size, helped by memories of every time he ever put a foot in a kitchen and what is supposed to have said size and what could that uncertain shape be the closest to. He concentrated on the tools and their emplacements during a time he tried to make as short as possible.

He didn't want to waste his eyes on this. Madara knew it.

The cream cup was put into Madara's hands with no words, only oppressing silence, because with Madara, there seemed to be no words for trivial things, or at least, there were no words Itachi wished to utter. He thought then, that he considered Madara's very existence with a seriousness he never granted Shisui, because out of all the people Itachi ever loved in his life, Shisui was maybe the only one he loved so selfishly. The older cousin invested himself first, invited himself in his life, and Itachi found pleasant to just follow the flow of it.

Madara sipped the cup in slow motion, and declared that it had an awful taste.

His eyes met with Itachi's.

What the younger percieved, he was silently and absolutely terrified to see in his little brother's eyes, one not so far away day, and he knew for a certainty he would. You made your bed, you lay in it.

The rhythm of his breathing increased as discreetly as he could make it for a very short length of time, until he took control of it again, but it was there, and Madara definitely noticed it.

With his renowned glooming aura surrounding him, the Uchiha ancestor silently paced towards the younger's sitting form, and stopped when he could reach Itachi's upper arm, took the amount of flesh he could grasp, between his thumb and forefinger and twisted, for an undefined length of time, until he was satisfied to see a warm red colour adorning that portion of skin. Then he did the same for one left cheek.

The pain was stinging but totally tolerable and probably what hurt the less in the last eighteen years of Itachi's life.

"Is that it ? "

"Was there more you wanted ?" Madara chuckled "I simply wanted to make sure you looked presentable, your skin color was so nasty."

Because this man hurt lots of people affectionately.

Itachi slightly touched his one burning cheek and shrugged it off.

There were times like this when he seemed to be falling down into Madara's hands, simply because from the beginning, Itachi was shaped to be someone's: somewhere in a far corner of his heart: Mikoto's, somewhere in the insides of his guilty mind: Fugaku's, somewhere in his inner four year old's peace craving spirit: Konoha's, in every field: Sasuke's, but in the most secret and amusing ways: Madara's. In times like those, Itachi just chose to resume his role of lifeless corpse -because mother said "If you can put up with it, don't say anything. It is everyone's share".

A ghost of a smile appeared on the younger's lips and he said :

"Thank you then."

Madara paused for a second, pondering about Itachi's new-found cheerfulness. Those days, he even smiled in his sleep. Did he dream of heaven ? Of a world of sweets and cotton candies and baby Sasuke's ?

Oh puh-lease.

"This pointless game will end here." The older finally declared and Itachi seemed almost -almost- disappointed, as he just let himself fall on his back, on the couch he was sitting on, but Madara yanked his ponytail forth, stopping him short.

It was out of habit really. He would not be brought into childish bully games at such a time, and he definitely didn't feel like making Itachi shoulder the role of the poor martyr either. Itachi came to him, consequently giving up on any right to complain afterwards.

While the raven haired prodigy lazily squirmed to get rid of the hand ripping his hair, his older relative took the time to notice one odd look of slight alert on his face.

"What is it ?" Madara demanded.

" ... The vegetables are burning."

The sky was weeping outside, with a shade very much like Itachi's clothing, mood and mind at the moment, and Madara thought that hopefully he was there to put some little colour to that face.

"There are no vegetables."

There are just rush of feelings, preceding an exceptional moment. And an exceptional moment needs to be celebrated, Madara muses.

"Come, follow me. " he finally declared and added a final pinch to Itachi's pale right cheek.

The red paper lantern on the front of the establishment informed Itachi of its nature while he followed Madara silently, in an agreeable complying that only existed years and years ago, to one low table where the two of them sat side by side on the tatami mats, ordered a substantial amount of food and as Itachi began to poke the vegetable skewers, deciding whether or not the thing was worth the effort he was going to use up by bringing it to his mouth, the sake came, gulped down by his mentor and followed by rounds and rounds of drinks.

Madara considered himself as a man full of patience.

But just then, he really didn't feel like making use of it, so he took his young relative by the neck, tilted his head back and poured the drink down Itachi's throat. When he was finished, all evidence of whatever happened just disappeared with Itachi's indifferent posture, save for some misplaced strands of hair, that he made a task of fixing.

Madara resisted the urge to sigh, and gave him an annoyed look that said 'kids', which he made a job of not looking at.

The older threw a glance at the drink and back at him, then took it and raised his cup.

"I won't tell a soul." He whispered.

"Really now ?"

"Cross my heart."

Maybe it was for the little amount of alcohol he just swallowed, the spur that the exact moment suggested or for some far away thought about making up for some of the things he owed his mentor, added by passing and fading reasoning of just 'why not ?' but Itachi raised his cup too.

Madara looked at Itachi. Itachi looked back.

And after ticking minutes of calm sipping on the younger's part, with all his usual poise and detachment and a vague air of 'I might not really agree with what I'm doing but I will do it perfectly', he finally declared that he didn't feel well and disappeared.

"Well, now."

When Madara turned his head, he was just in time to catch a glimpse of Itachi's disappearing ponytail, then he followed the sounds of retching, followed by a fit of coughing, and a few steps after, he was welcomed by a sewer and locks of black hair hovering above it, and semi-trembling arms, trying to support the body attached to them.

As a trail of melted blood and saliva was dripping down Itachi's jaw, drizzle fell from the clouds, shortly followed by torrential rain, wetting and soaking random objects, making clothes cling to bodies. Everyone fled the streets and the prospect of being wet, in search of a temporary shelter.

Under the darkening, star-devoid sky, a gloved hand was put on a bony shoulder, because not caring at all would be like throwing away all the energy he once invested in Itachi and the sentence "I shouldn't have done this." ceased to belong to Madara's language a long time ago.

Madara lived enough not to go back on his actions.

The surrounding air was filled with the steam of cooked cabbages, Itachi noticed, as his hands slid forwards, on a few inches, bringing his head down. At this distance, he could very distinctly feel Shisui's breathing against his freezing skin. The older cousin smiled, and Itachi could count eighteen visible rotten teeth, as his head was floating and drifting away in the sewer, and he said "I love you, you, you ... "

Itachi raised his head to the sky.

"There is no need to cry." A deep voice from an orange mask said, dominating the clattering noise.

"There is no crying." Itachi whispered.

"You can't fool me."

The younger let the cool rain plaster his hair on his face, and found it strange to see a rainbow so clearly at the current hour, the colours were bright and highly contrasted with the dark blue of the sky. It seemed made of paper and cheap paint.

He felt inclined to smile when it whirled, and looked like one great lollipop, standing out in the night. The little buds, that were floating in the sewer too, bloomed into fully mature downy and feathery flowers, before he could count to three, hiding away all the trash and smell of death.

The rain tasted like cotton candy.

Outside where it was cold and wet and not heart-warming, the thunder must have flashed and grounded, it went unseen and unheard.

There was just Madara's spinning eye, smiling fondly.

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**Till next chapter !**

**Please review C: !**


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again, The Darkest wizard and Aquarian17, that you so much for your time *hugs* \(^o^)/. I hope you enjoy this chapter. And thank you everyone for reading.**

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"Please! I can't take this anymore!"

It should have been a mere music to Sasuke's ears, but this guy just proved himself to be highly disappointing. His long raven hair might have attracted the young Uchiha's attention, before his shrieking voice definitely gave away his identity -as 'not Itachi'-, identity that Sasuke pretended not to notice.

The katana plunged into some non-vital part his chest was removed and the man mumbled a thousand thanks accompanied by little bows all the way he was fleeing away from his attacker, while the latter looked down at him with disdain, now that he was deprived from a glimpse of his future victory. He didn't bother feeling any guilt because his earlier victim was stupid enough not to cut or die his hair and cross Sasuke's path at the same time -How could he not have heard of Sasuke's name and the legend behind it ?-.

That surge of pride.

_"I'm sure it will always fear you, little brother."_

One of the few good things Itachi achieved in his life.

They are that close now, and Sasuke considers that other from dying, he had every right to expect something from his brother -no, not brother, just this deceitful, offending thing- Surely eight years of waiting for this couldn't be fulfilled with a few seconds of just dying. He will be ripped what he cherishes the most, because whatever he achieved to do would be brought to the ground and stomped on with a passion, he would fall and fall and Sasuke would laugh and laugh -and maybe for each blow Sasuke delivers, he will even put a reminder to go with it : "This one is for father, this one is for mother and now _all of that_ is for _me_."

Past experiences proved that the angsty emotional approach would likely turn against him. This time would be one for detachment. And how Sasuke feels like being childish again : those blissful times of 'I want, then I will be given, otherwise I'll make your life a living hell', that is exactly what it will be about.

Hundred times of going through Itachi's life lead Sasuke to one conclusion : there was no way out. There were times when he was young and desperate and willed himself to understand:

Itachi had once been a baby. Such a strange thing to think of. Sasuke did not know that Itachi and there was no evidence -except the scientific and logical laws of biology, that is- that he was once one. But now, at this exact moment, that Itachi was the only Itachi that Sasuke could ever consider loving, because he so very well loved that person, and that love had to lose itself somewhere.

Itachi had once been five : Sasuke's very first Itachi, and the glimpses and most well-imprinted baby memories Sasuke would remember of those times were being in his arms, seeing a gigantic man -compared to Itachi, the man seemed gigantic- whose face was polished and ornated with trails of black, Itachi's hold tightening, Itachi talking in a curious tone. Sasuke remembered crying because the man talked in a language that to Sasuke meant 'harm' -the words did not resonate as Itachi's words-.

Itachi had once been eight, he gave in to Sasuke's whims so easily -as if it was vital- and Sasuke knew he would always be indulged with him, but people began to pester him about how his brother had more important things to do, and how he should leave him alone. He did not spare it a thought, he knew Itachi would not listen to them. Only to Sasuke.

Itachi had once been ten, and Sasuke had the impression that everything and everyone plotted for them not to be together, Itachi began to take other people's needs into consideration, it seemed then. Sasuke had to make up injuries for his brother to look at him. He even had to remind him from time to time that his little brother was still around.

And then Itachi had been thirteen, and that Itachi killed all the previous ones. Sasuke didn't believe that he was born evil, nor did he believe that his brother plotted to ruin everyone's life since the day he could think rationaly.

There was the Itachi of before and something that lead to the demon of now. And whatever he did in the past does not count at all because Itachi is like this now, he decided and wanted to be like this, and what matters the most is that he didn't show any will to change what he definitely became, nor did he show any regrets.

Sasuke doesn't remember his brother being ever so determined on something. It was unforgivable.

There was no way out. Itachi decided. Sasuke would act consequently.

And soon, Sasuke would take that control and the very childish side of himself wished to see Itachi indulging his every wish again. One thing would happen for sure : Itachi would be taken the right to decide once and for all, nothing good ever came from that anyways.

He stood up and looked over his team.

"We're heading to the next Akatsuki hideout."

And let's cross our fingers.

xXx

Itachi opened his eyes to one white ceiling and sneezed softly. The night did not vanish yet and through the open window, with the passing rain, the stars were shining at last, but there was nothing exceptional to them, not tonight. Madara's chakra signature was absent, probably gone drinking some more while Itachi was staring at nothing and shivering and thinking about everything.

As the dust inside the shelter came up to his nose once more, the raven-haired young man made it to the window. The air was so much more breathable there. It could as well have whispered 'breathe, breathe and fill your ugly ugly lungs with me, I am worth the pain, your loss if you don't welcome me in' -it didn't hurt, it barely tingled, in fact-

The twenty minutes that he had slept, he had the most vivid dream -probably influenced by his previous hallucination. With awareness, it slowly faded, but Itachi remembered walking alongside with around twenty faceless individuals, to an old woman, he dreamt of a clairvoyant maybe, because he remembered being told that light yellow was a colour that would bring him luck, and then the mood was one of fatalism, and he also remembered the words " ... will be sabotaged, easily broken and will most likely never be achieved ... " and "...you will never raise..." along with something turning around his bad luck, nothing he did not expect so far -the dream was not his for nothing.

Then, maybe the dream drifted because he didn't remember what lead the woman to say something along the lines of "...child..." and "...years to come..."

All over the dream, that particular music had been playing in his head over and over again. He had been three and some nights, Mikoto would play that song, lift him off his feets and carry him along her paths, then she whirled and they would dance like that. When he grew older as a teen, she only ever said once "Itachi, dance with me". Itachi could recall that four years old would have put a better performance then, for there were awkwardly positioned hands, tightly holding each other's necks, and legs moving uncoordinatedly. There was no dance, merely gripping and some necessity to move around.

But it was the only right thing to do.

"Urgh, my head, what the hell happened to me?"

Kisame's inquiry was met by only silence, a somewhat light atmosphere, and a sight of Itachi fiddling with his necklace. At that moment, he felt like it would have been appropriate to call him 'kid' again, like those times when he was thirteen and Kisame was the designated adult. Itachi had always been a ludicrously polite person, anyways. His partner, Kisame noticed, now looked at the sky with that intensity of one waiting for a falling star, but he knew Itachi didn't see those things which proved themselves to be just as reliable as starfish.

"Hey, how about, hum ... say, a walk?"

"To?"

"Oh, wherever you want, a place where we can have some fun."

Itachi looked at him, his face expressing clear refusal. The 'fun' he had hours ago would suffice for the rest of his life. He added something nonetheless.

"If you are yet willing to walk, there is a place I would appreciate to visit. maybe it could benefit you too ..."

Kisame should have seen it coming really, but he wasn't sure where to place himself as Itachi entered with bare feet into the temple. The raven-haired boy paused in his tracks, as if waiting to see if his partner would show up behind, and continued after a total of three seconds.

The shark-like man settled for waiting for him outside. He heard the bell ring once and after a little waiting, he could faintly distinguish Itachi clapping his hands twice.

Kisame yawned. So, what was he supposed to do now? If they were in another world, maybe he would come up to him, take him by his shoulders and shake again and again. He would demand what the hell is wrong now and Itachi would look down and mumble a source of problem. Kisame would brush it off, he would say something like "Oh, that ? It will be taken care of" with a self-sufficient tone. Itachi would have a pat in the back or maybe Kisame would tighten his hold around Itachi's upper arm or maybe that little boy would even have a hug -it would have a share of oddity as the last time Kisame hugged someone, decades ago, it must have been his crying two years old sister- But the world doesn't know of simplicity and Itachi being Itachi prevents all the previous statements from happening. There are only stares, nods, trivial dialogs and the half-words that Kisame had to turn into full sentences, then the barely noticeable tone-change that he had to turn into a mood to associate with the previously guessed sentence.

Kisame had had an armful of siblings -mostly because in a country like Kiri, producing harmful of children gave parents the assurance or illusion that they increased the chance for more of them to come back alive- he had brothers he paid the most attention to, at the beginning , because they were the ones he would meet in the battlefield, he also lost his closest one at the same place. Eventually, he had to give a share of affection to every other sibling.

He had -once, maybe, because he is not quite sure of what happened to all of them anymore- a mute sister, who knew nothing than to pull a pained face, and he always had the intuition that, could she talk, her words would be dripping with cynism. Then he had one of those loud-mouthed ones who seemed like she never went through the wonders of maturity, full of herself, she liked to be showered by people's pity, to wallow in self-pity. He had a rather shallow one too, whom he wasn't even going to blame because somewhere deep inside, he had the feeling that she had taken the best way, out of all the sisters. Then he had a sister who was sighing, smoking, staring into nothing, who eventually sold herself, in her volatile attempts to put up with everything.

Kisame had grown with an armful of personalities, and while dealing with Itachi, to prevent himself from acting blindly, he considered the young man as a odd combination of the mute sister -that is, without her facial expressions- and the sister who sold herself and the dead brother, that added to the other complexities that made Itachi, that Kisame had yet to recognize -and even if he achieved to do so, he is not sure he could do anything about it.

He stopped his train of thoughts when Itachi finally decided to grace him with his presence. So he prayed all that time? What could such a long monologue be about? Or did he repeat the same demand all over again for more efficiency? Kisame smiled slightly at the thought of Itachi talking to an human being during the same amount of time, and never shutting up. But really, why couldn't he make efforts to share those topics with other mortals -if not for the sake of having an healthy conversation, at least to recieve concrete advices?

"So, did you find some divine answer to your problems?" The older asked playfully.

"Kisame." Itachi answered in a slightly tired tone "You are free not to believe. But it didn't cost that much to put all the chances in my side."

Kisame frowned deeply. Prayers, and now chance? What was the desperate matter?

"Is there something I need to know, Itachi?" The '-san' disappeared somewhere between his brain and his mouth, snatched by a train of thoughts that suggested Itachi was desperate for guidance. It was a crazy thing to think of.

"Can we meet back in a while?"

But that last tone was the most recognizable Kisame ever heard, and were he to translate it into a facial expression, it would without any doubt be a smile. Maybe Itachi's battle was not against Sasuke.

"Fine."

xXx

When Madara put a foot on the doorstep around five or six in the morning, after drinking alone, entertaining himself and having put -or rather dragged- Itachi somewhere with a roof above his head, his hands dropped lazily to his sides : no Itachi.

Oh well, hooray.

Everything was neat and folded. He stood there for a second during which Itachi did not yet achieve to go back yet, that shouldn't have mattered as he just knew he would -for that reason, he didn't bother asking Kisame- but he did not particularly appreciate to be stood up, and Itachi didn't even take the very little politeness of informing him -whether or not he knew it would happen does not matter, he deserved the every respect in the world for every time he wasted with that boy.

Itachi probably went to his first encounter with that little brother of his.

What couldn't little brothers make you do?

That feeling was very familiar too, as Madara himself once fussed about the little things that would be considered as nothing now. And that, he shared with his student.

Somewhere, he felt like it was merely an inheritance passed through him to Itachi, with the slight modifications brought by their own identities. In the end, Izuna's fate remained one of victim, one of a hero that fought despite his incapacity. Izuna got death with popular pity. Madara got power with popular hate. Up until now, Sasuke is getting both power and pity. Itachi was assuming too much roles in this familiar scenario. But he was not here to understand the world's pain nor to go through the wonders of unfairness. He did enough of that to foresee where it lead.

Though, he definitely knows that Itachi is not half as reluctant as he should be around him. The boy never had any problems delegating control.

In this dominant-submissive game, two came in willingly. It was a game of role-plays and illusions, and its issue was merely a question of whose illusion will be the easier to dash into pieces. Madara knew that Itachi liked the illusion that he lived through the older Uchiha's presence, that illusion that he was not, in fact, given the choice -because the weight of choices was something that Itachi feared, even though he would never tell, maybe just a little less than war- deep inside of him he never rejected the prospect of not being free of his acts. And keep the real control in the real world, Madara just loved to remind him of the opposite, and only after could he give him a taste of the consequences.

That amusing thought did not last long. He had to move.

He had to get rid of this feeling of -once again- unachieved.

xXx

And at the same time but miles away, in a cave damp and cold, Itachi's heart felt like a ticking bomb. Something palpable would be waiting in there, at last. It would break hundred illusions and forced dreams and engender thousand hopes and a turmoil of never suppressed feelings. All in all, he never countered his eagerness to rediscover every detail, when somewhere his mind screamed that he lost that right, too.

He could feel approaching Sasuke's invading aura, his hand quivered involuntarily at the sensation, and Itachi definitely smiled at that. He quickly acknowledged that now was not the moment to let himself be overwhelmed, for now, there was no room for a hair out of place. Maybe later, way later.

And with an heart twisted with rage, but swearing to himself not to let a hint of it to be seen, standing with all his might, the little brother approached with loud footsteps and a fisted hand. Itachi was in there. He sensed it. This would be done correctly this time.

The sensation of thrill that affected Itachi earlier crossed the cave to go right through Sasuke's body, but he felt it for very different reasons.

The slightest of curls appeared on the younger's lips for a short duration while his eyes stayed impassible.

Tee-hee.

Payback would be a bitch.

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**Till next chapter again.**

**Please tell me what you think C:.**


	5. Chapter 5

**My sincere thanks and all my love to Aquarian17, Rosebunse, Itachi Uchiha is my HERO for their time and generosity, \^o^/ this is a big hug to you. I hope you will not be disappointed with this chapter. Thanks for everyone who is giving this story a shot too.**  
**Please enjoy!**

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The way to the Uchiha compound was a long, deserted -for people who didn't particularly need to be there wouldn't wander there-, tricky one. On his way, Madara crossed that battlefield from a near century ago, where his allies fell, turned into a potato field. The vegetables were growing above buried bones and rusty weapons, a scenery that Itachi might find particularly beautiful.

Farther, the way was occasionally punctuated by beggars who pushed their children to do the 'pity me' part of the job, for the sake of having a few more coins into their torn, dirty pockets, for the day. Anyone who looked remotely clean and belonging to middle-class people -or upper- would have himself surrounded by those children who inherited their parent's poverty.

So was that faceless strange man. He could have been crazy but the hunger was too much, the call of the money was too much.

"Sir, please give us some coins so that we can eat today" One child managed in the most pitiful voice he could muster. He received a quick glance that spoke of reticence and then:

"Work for me and I will pay you."

"Work?" There was a tinge of incertitude in the child's voice, as if he found himself trapped.

"Yeees: as in cleaning a house or washing clothes. It is only fair." The man taunted with a singsong voice.

"But ... I am being schooled still ..."

Oh well, maybe he did not want the money that much then.

"Too bad. Farewell." With those last words, the masked man stomped off. Foolish children, why would he give him anything for free while himself and whoever was dear to him did never receive such a treatment from any stranger?

XxX

"Here you are." A toothy grin appropriated Kisame's face. Itachi forced a smile onto his lips. "We are doing lot of wandering today." The shark added while Itachi arrived and did not even halt his steps before heading yet to another destination, the later felt grateful for his partner to already assume he wanted to be followed.

"So about that thing you wanted to tell ..."

"I will encounter my little brother a while later, as you know."

"Hmm ... " The older agreed.

"So I have a favor to ask for, one I cannot manage anymore."

"Want me to stop all the interferences?"

"Yes."

"Sure."

Too easy, but the tenseness that could be seen through the visible skin of his neck remained, along with some embarrassment by the way his pupils were slowly following a diagonal line.

"Something else?"

Itachi suppressed the need to scold himself, he hated acting like a spoilt child who needed people to force things out of them, for their own good. How immature already.

"I had the occasion to see Sasuke a while ago."

"Oh, cool." He commented, in lack of anything better -and more appropriate- to tell.

"And well, did you see his clothes?"

"Not liking his fashion sense?" Kisame laughed, they were so not having this discussion.

Itachi made a face. Not quite, he just had a discreet long face.

"This is not my principal matter. It was silly, I just wanted to shut that thing."

"Huh?"

"I love Sasuke, you see."

While Kisame did nothing but nod accordingly as if saying 'Sure, always knew so', he continued.

"I know he can take care of himself." He stopped at the disbelief in his own voice and tried with a more neutral one: "Why is he so bent on exposing his chest like that? That foolish little brother may be freezing."

"He worked hard for those muscles, that show-off."

"What do you think of a zip fastener?"

"Duh."

There was a homeless family, along that way. A woman trying to make a fire out of a heap of charcoal and wood, when she failed for what seemed like the fourth time, she threw a plastic bag in the heap and burnt it with a match. She succeeded at last. Itachi thought briefly that if she wanted the rice not to look like soup, the water should not have exceeded the second phalanx of her middle finger that much. Everyone their worries. Hopefully, theirs was lighter during that very little portion of time.

Itachi's last sentence put an end to all his requests and a few minutes after, to their walk, moreover, his muscles relaxed just a -merely noticeable for someone who did not live with him for years- little. As they stopped moving, Kisame, for a moment, considered going over those things he already knew and those he learnt, the last few days.

Thinking it through, was it justifiable to find those simple things so difficult or odd? It was easy and effortless in fact. His arm ensnared his little partner's shoulder in a half hug, and held that shoulder a bit too hard as Itachi's feet were temporarily lifted off the ground -it might even have left a little bruise on the skin-. When he was pulled down, he waited to be stable and took three steps backwards, then turned fully and departed.

Kisame's beginning of a huff was cut short when Itachi raised his hand in mid-way.

"See you Kisame." He lied.

It was rewarded by another toothy grin, less enthusiast but more sincere.

"See you later, kid." Kisame whispered.

xXx

Sasuke allowed himself -once again- to be frustrated, almost disappointed with himself. For he nearly hoped to get from Itachi an active, emotional response. And to tell that he even allowed himself to be proud, when for once -since Itachi decided to turn into that hideous thing- he struck right and nearly triggered the beginning of a reaction. But, what was this?

The young avenger scolded himself for expecting too much. He needed to kick the habit once and for all.

It was years ago but he was too much used to Itachi making that pitiful face -whether he faked it or not-, for each time he recalled even striking him -and maybe Itachi let him do so, at the time, but he did not want to linger at those insignificant details-

_"Why are you so mean to me Sasuke? I did nothing to you."_ Itachi had that expression of a kid who had been whipped for hours -or who had been told by his parents that they would abandon him in a bin-, and while a quarter of three-years old Sasuke's mind felt totally guilty, the other three-quarter felt incredibly powerful.

Now it was as if there was not a time when Sasuke hitting him was what he dreaded the most. No matter how much his fists were small and harmless, it was just one of those things Itachi could not bring himself to stand, since he was a kid.

The worse was probably that one time when Sasuke threatened "If you touch my snacks nii-san, I'll cut your hand." that was somewhat over the top actually, but Sasuke just wanted to sound cool, like the other boys, because fighting was cool, right? After hearing that, Itachi answered -obviously not catching the meaning of 'cool'- : "If you cut my hand little brother, I will be so sad that my heart will stop beating altogether." Sasuke had been horrified, and then tried to soothe that silly Itachi by reassuring him that he did not actually meant to cut his hand, that he was just joking, damn it.

Thinking about that now, the revenge-hungry part of Sasuke wished to found it hilarious: that Itachi actually feared him while he was not dangerous, he wanted so much to laugh out of that -a little less self-control and he would go all: 'Ohohohoho!'- but he couldn't. He couldn't because it was not even something Itachi had the decency to be ashamed of. People couldn't really be mocked out of something they totally assumed, and in his childhood, fearing Sasuke was something that Itachi nearly maintained.

Those days when he knew he was the key to all his emotions, that whatever he did, Itachi reacted to it hundredfold and more, Sasuke was so proud and possessive of that, so proud and possessive he did not totally acknowledge that it died too.

He did not totally acknowledge it was lost, merely mislead.

Merely mislead, yes, and he would be getting that back, if anything. Anything could please him. Oh, he would cut him that hand. Or even a whole leg, from the thigh with that.

XxX

Madara's destination reeked of old age, impending death and a certain feeling of greatness -stomped on, all three-, and while sitting in this throne of stone that was once his, he shortly took in the nostalgic feeling that went with this chair. The lethargy was short-lived because of three concise knocks on the door. Polite, precious Itachi.

"Come in." He managed with a voice free of bitterness. The door was closed behind the young Uchiha and he advanced with unfocused steps until they are at less than twenty feet from each other.

"How have you been?" Because Madara felt the need to begin that dialog, though he did not come for things he already knew. If Itachi was somewhat unsettled, he did not show it.

"Good." Then for the sake of the semblance of politeness in the pointless discussion he added "Yourself?" Maybe the sooner Madara was pleased with talking, the sooner he would leave. Or not. Either way, staring was counterproductive.

"Average."

There was a pregnant silence and then.

"Madara-"

"Why do you pretend not to see what you already know? You will not change the world, Itachi, and you will most likely lose at whatever fight you are so determined to be into." And most importantly, you will successfully achieve producing another me. Useless martyrs got on his nerves.

And today more than ever, it was there and refused so firmly to leave. Itachi, peaceful Itachi, whose fire of determination died somewhere around his fourth birthday and who wanted nothing more than to surrender then, nothing more than to let himself being pushed around, discovered a year later that he would willingly and with all his heart fight for a cause, and it was nothing short of magical. He discovered the wonders of owning but most importantly of being owned. And that same fire burns tenfold now, compared to every day he ever lived.

But he would go and leave his immature brother with his heart filled with even more desperate revenge and ressentiment, to realize alone the extent of his acts, their uselessness and nothing less than everything weighing on him.

And while Madara contemplated this, the younger's digits lingered around one old scar that turned paler than the skin around it, courtesy of a hopeless Fugaku. It mattered not because there were things he needed to remember until now, for Sasuke, for him: it would always be considerably less painful to be punished by men than punished by life.

'Life is not a fairytale.' If he ever received a coin for each time he heard that sentence, Kakuzu would be after his life. But ... life went on: that was all about it.

"My, my! If you cry just a little, I'll tell it to no one." He received a 'I thought we were over that, already' look "Cooome on, just a little ..." So it was a no? Maybe Itachi would not cry out of self-pity (maybe because it would waste the precious energy he was saving) but for some unknown reason, he could very well picture him crying out of joy.

"Okay, then come and sit here." A hand patted the large arm of the throne "We wouldn't want to exhaust you with all that standing around: how impolite of me it would be."

"How considerate of you." While taking place on that upwards piece of stone beside Madara and leaned slowly to the fraction of the back of the throne he could reach and pulled his legs to himself.

As the silence carried on, the slight temptation of ending Itachi's life at that point made itself known again, along with the 'why' and 'why not'. Madara had been betrayed intrinsically and Sasuke's reaction to that would be outright hilarious. Maybe somewhere he wanted someone in the same state as he.

"I can feel you scared, what are you scared of?"

He would never say and Madara could only guess but Itachi knew exactly why his heart was in his mouth: he was terrified of after-death, of not remembering who he lived for, that his soul -if it survived and was going somewhere-, deprived of his rotting body, deprived of any flesh material, would not have any vessel for his cherished memories, for his brother. Where were those things supposed to end? Would he be granted a pseudo-brain after all he did? And then there was this fear of remembering and not knowing. Was there any after-life dispositions that would grant him to have a view of the world he left behind? The worst was the fear of knowing and not being able to do anything.

How Itachi wanted to tell that man: 'One day, Sasuke will be surrounded by love and admiration and honor: all he could wish for. He will live for the living, and all you are ever going to be is _this_. You will eat your heart out.' He couldn't bring himself to, for he knew the following pattern just so well: Madara using his little brother (thinking of the possibility of those two not meeting was just right daydreaming) and having no difficulties doing so because they were so alike, Madara could virtually see Sasuke's brains being put into gears -he prayed every day that Sasuke would overcome that stage- and then not bothering to stand by his side when he is done with him, when he successfully turned everyone against Sasuke. And if Itachi was granted to witness that in after-life, he would wish nothing but to die all over again (to live all over again, to end this nonsense, and if that was impossible -as it ought to be- then he would totally understand what being in hell meant).

"Will you take care of my little brother?" And without taking the time to be taken aback by this demand, Madara answered:

"I will."

"Will you stop striving for this meaningless war?"

"Eventually."

Two hollow and asinine demands for two even more hollow and asinine promises.

A sigh, he closed his eyes and put his hands over them: 'Please, don't let him go through what he can't stand.' he prayed 'Please let me ...' he dared not think of the continuation, for it might have spoilt the first plea.

He felt a pull on his clothes an then fully landed on the stone throne, Madara stood and hovered above him.

"Then be kind with my little brother too, for he might even like you." And the lingering sentence he did not say was: 'You foolish. blind child. It seems that I will be missing you.'

On his way back, the Uchiha ancestor could feel with each passing step the lack of importance of what was talked about, most importantly its lack of repercussion, and all that mattered stayed hanging heavily above their heads. It did not matter because he communicated what he had to and heard what he wanted to hear, he was hearing those things still, but his words would not speak of actions. They would stay words: volatile and dissolving, the moment they were uttered, uttered just for the one who wanted to hear so. With the same extent, Madara heard Itachi's words but would not understand them, for his own brother would always matter more than anyone else's. He would not come back but what he lost him for would at least be given a sense -because Izuna died for a battle no one was willing to fight for- and then, maybe he too would get tired of finding a point to everything and living up to nothing. Until then, the promise he would keep was an unsaid one: he would be there. That was the thing with Madara, he was always there.

After one last noisy sniffle, a smile was put on his stern, sober face -though no one could see-. Was not it silly to waste thoughts for those exasperating things? He could only agree with himself. The world was a wonderful playground. Happy thoughts were easy to form. Tobi thought so.

Before disappearing into the woods, he heard that same silly beggar singing: "Those quarrels of the past, I am asking you not to repeat them anymore, leaves have been falling down, you will just have to make the others grow, my friend" (1)

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**(1) Not mine. If you want to know whose it is, just ask me.**  
**Also, the next chapter should be the last, and might take a little more time. Thanks again for all your support, if it wasn't for you, this would have been a three-shot ;) and please tell me what you think C:**


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